Page 130 of The Female

Silas’s sigh is loud and full of annoyance, but I don’t care. I don’t bother looking up as I hear him approaching, too busy resting my eyes.

“Aziel would never kill Gray. They’re bonded,” he says.

I hum, not quite content with that response but too tired to pry any deeper. My body jerks upright as the sudden feeling of falling takes over my mind, and I blink sleepily at Silas as he grabs my arms and pulls me out of my chair.

Groaning, I shove at his chest, unhappy with the manhandling.

“Go away,” I mutter.

He ignores my order and hoists me over his shoulder before stomping toward the door. I hiss in pain, his shoulder digging into my belly, and shove my hands against his back.

“Put!”

I slam my fist into the base of his spine.

“Me!”

I slam my fist into his kidney.

“Down!”

I slip my fingers into his hair and yank the strands back.

This seems to get his attention as he grunts and throws me farther behind him. I shriek as my face slams into his butt, and I grab blindly at his calves in an attempt to stop his walking. The blood rushing to my head makes me dizzy, and my anger grows each time my face smashes into the back of his thighs.

I have half a mind to grab the rock that dangles in front of my mouth and slam it into his butt, but fear of him dropping or falling on top of me prevents me from doing so.

“Gray will find you when he gets back.” Silas huffs, speaking as if he’s not carrying me by my ankles.

I reach hopelessly for the stairwell railing, grunting as my sweaty palm wraps around the wood and catches on the metal that screws it into the wall. Silas comes to a halt, but he doesn’t release me.

“I’m going to continue walking in three seconds. You can keep holding that pole and rip open your hand on the metal, or you can let it go and make it upstairs with your skin intact.”

Fuck him.

“One.”

I huff, tightening my grip.

“Two.”

My jaw clenches shut, and I glare at the railing as if it has personally offended me.

“Three.”

I release the damn thing and sag against his back. My fingertips dig into his thighs as he carries me upstairs, his movements relaxed and rhythmic. I hate Silas.

“You’re not my keeper,” I mumble, knowing he can hear my quiet words.

Silas doesn’t respond—not that I expect him to—and continues forward. I lift my head as I realize he’s not leading me down Gray’s and my wing, and I search around in a panic as he carries me down his instead.

What’s he doing? Silas is out of his mind if he thinks I’ll be sleeping with him tonight. My pulse races as he turns into what I assume is his bedroom and drops me on the bed. I flail as I spin and try to orient myself, my brain a bit fuzzy after being upside down for so long.

I look around the room as I kick aside his black sheets and sit on the edge the bed. Silas flicks on a lamp as I stare at the floor to ceiling bookshelves that span the entire back wall of his room.

“This is where I keep the books I don’t want Gray or Aziel touching,” he explains.

In front of the bookshelves is a dark wooden desk with piles of paperwork cluttering it. The rest of his room is typical, a giant bed and matching dresser filling the space. There are two doors to the right, one of which I assume is a closet and the other a bathroom.

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